Flashpoint
by Martienne
Summary: AU - When Freelancer Agent Texas is captured on a Covenant ship, her will is tested against that of the Prophet. Originally written for Taming the Muse on LJ. Rated for language.


_Author's notes may be found on my journal at RedvsBlue .com/Martienne_

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><p>The first sensation she was aware of as she regained consciousness was the fuzzy, groggy sensation in her head, as though someone had tried to ring her like a bell. She opened her eyes slowly; the influx of light caused a wave of nausea, and she pushed herself onto her hands and knees to steel herself against it. She was aware of an aching in her limbs and shook them each out, one at a time, and forced herself to sit up on the bunk.<p>

Tex didn't know how long she had been in the brig of the Covenant destroyer. All she knew was that the mission had been fairly ordinary until an Elite Zealot had spotted the shimmer of her invisible armor. Before she knew it she had been slammed against the wall, bludgeoned, and knocked unconscious.

And so she was here. Presumably they didn't plan to hold her for very long. From what she knew of the Covenant, they never kept human captives alive for very long. She leaned her head back against the wall, checking the statistics on her HUD to make sure everything was still operational and that she was not seriously injured. Judging by her symptoms, she may need to be checked for a concussion when she managed to escape—because for Tex, thinking of her escape was not a possibility, it was a certainty. They had been foolish enough to keep her alive this far. She would teach them what such a mistake would cost them.

"Demon," she heard a voice bark, and she looked toward the force field door of her cell to see a hulking Elite outside. "Come. The Prophet demands answers for your crimes."

She stared through narrowed eyes at the alien, not making a move to comply with his request. "Crimes?" she spat. "What do you call glassing a planet? A religious duty? It looks like a fucking crime to me. Just how many colonies has this ship glassed? How many people have died because of your so-called 'prophet' pushing a button?"

The Elite wielded his ceremonial energy sword and let out a low growl. "Demon! Approach the door of your cell or I will execute you on the spot!"

The flash of white light from the sword was as good as a challenge to hand-to-hand combat for the volatile Freelancer and she launched herself off of the bunk to engage in an offensive posture before the door. She immediately realized that unfortunately she had not quite recovered from her recent spell of somnolence and she stumbled, crouching forward to give her vision, which had gone yellow, a moment to clear.

As she lingered in this position, the force field was deactivated and two Brute guards appeared and grabbed her by the arms. The Elite laughed, a strange, whooping sound, before he turned to lead the way. Tex kept her helmeted head slightly lowered, to fool the Covenant troops into thinking she had been cowed. In actuality, she was doing her best to gather her internal resources, breathing deeply to attempt to regain her full facility and watch for an advantageous moment.

Soon enough, she was brought into the bridge and the Brute guards left her standing alone before the ship's Prophet. He sat in a tall, motorized vehicle of some kind, as shiny and purple as everything on this ship. What was with these aliens and that color? She stared at him, now perfectly content to show her defiance by holding her head high. She did not yet feel recovered, but hell if she would show it now.

"Kneel to show submission to the Prophet, demon," the Elite ordered her.

She turned her head slightly to view the Elite from the corner of her eye. "No way in hell."

The Elite moved swiftly to stand before her, once again threatening her with his glowing energy sword. "You will comply, demon. Or you will be forced." He gave her a moment to respond; her continued hold of her erect posture caused him to gesture to the Brutes who had escorted her here. "Guards!" The Brutes came to flank her again, grabbing her by the arms and attempting to force her down onto her knees.

Her movements were swift, elbowing one first in the face, then using the shift in her gravity to kick out sideways and drive the other guard back. They wanted to call her a demon? She'd show them a demon. Both of the guards were attempting to recover their wits and she grabbed them simultaneously to ram their heads into each other. She stepped back from their inert forms and drove her body forward toward the Elite, who had been momentarily stunned but was now slashing toward her with his sword.

Her smaller stature was an advantage in this case. She grabbed his arm and swung both of her legs forward, turning during her swing to catch him square in the chest with both feet. At the same time, she grabbed the handle of the energy sword with the hand that had grabbed his arm on the overhand side. As he fell, she was able to extract the handle from his grip and tuck to roll away from his fall. She quickly leapt to her feet and began to hack and slash at any of her enemies who dared approach her.

It was not very long before everyone on the bridge other than the Prophet was dead. He was frantically calling for help from other areas of the ship, but humorously, it seemed that the door had been locked to prevent her escape. She stood before him, the sword held in front of her at the ready and her other hand clenched into a fist.

"This demon," she told him darkly, "is submissive to no one."


End file.
